


Special Lady-Valentine's Day short fic

by Hadeswastaken



Category: Far Cry 3
Genre: Drinking & Talking, Flowers, Gen, Not necessarily romantic but could be interpreted as such, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 20:10:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9784055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hadeswastaken/pseuds/Hadeswastaken
Summary: Sam opens the door, surprised to see Willis of all people at this hour, with his face buried in his arm, leaning against the door frame."Who's the special lady?" Sam asks, regarding the flowers behind Willis. To which the other draws a heavy sigh.Set before rook islands, back in the U.S Of A.Inspire by this, http://justfarcryimagines.tumblr.com/post/157251838948/valentines-day-starters.





	

**Author's Note:**

> It's not even Valentine's Day anymore, I'm a fraud. No, I don't know what else to call it.

Sam opens the door, surprised to see Willis of all people at this hour, with his face buried in his arm, leaning against the door frame. 

"Who's the special lady?" Sam asks, regarding the flowers behind Willis, to which the other draws a heavy sigh.

So Sam moves out of the way and invites the man in with open arms. He may be no therapist, but he knows how to pour beer into a glass and lend an ear to his colleague's troubles. As Willis drags himself inside half exhausted, Sam shuts the door behind him. Although they might not be awfully close by military standards. He couldn't very well tell a brother in need to fuck off.

"I don't understand my own life." Honest, concise, Willis opens up with such a sentence and Sam wouldn't expect anything less of him.

He goes into the kitchen to grab two clean glasses off the shelf along with two cans of beer. Pouring alcohol into the glasses to create an appearance of sophistication. It was Valentine's after all, they could at least partake in the atmosphere if not the actual holiday. When he returns to the living room, Willis was already seated on the sofa leaning forwards, almost dubbed over. Sam takes note of the dark circles around his eyes, now significantly more visible under the living room lights.

Passing a glass to Willis and taking a seat on the sofa perpendicular towards him. He doesn't ask what's wrong, it would be an insult to the both of them if the obvious needs to be stated. With Willis, it was a waiting game. The man can't really be coerced into opening himself up. But it is why he's here in the first place and even the brightest couldn't sustain a conversation alone. So Sam sits back and gets comfy, picking up his own glass to drink and letting out a refreshed sigh afterwards.

"Back when I was still married, I constantly neglected to get flowers." Willis finally looks up and their eyes meet. The divorce was always a thorny subject for Willis. Nevertheless, Sam is rather confused by him on this. Bidding good riddance in the company of acquaintances but then wallows to himself alone in the safety of somewhere private. Granted, Sam hasn't had the pleasure of one himself yet, though in times like these, he can see why Willis envies him for being able to be so carefree. 

"And now that I'm supposedly free. I end up buying the darn things." Willis scoffs, lifting up the roses in response. He was straining to keep his cool there and avoiding the actual D word.

"Can't you just give it back?"

"No, I can't just return it because I was already half way on the road when I realized it. I wasn't going to do the drive of shame back to the florist and have them look at me like I'm the saddest person in the world."

Even though it was a honest mistake, returning roses at 8 o'clock on Valentine's would likely lead to the conclusion that he was stood up. They'll look at him as if they're actually sorry for him, pity him, perhaps even expressing their remorse and act like he's some sort of kicked puppy. Just the thought of it is making Willis cringe. The worst part of the divorce wasn't the loss of a partner or the unfair alimony. He deals with both just fine, low key celebrating one and ignoring the other. But the looks he receives were unbearable. Everybody seems to think that it's everyone and their dog's place to comfort him.

Of cause, any attempts to explain his real situation would only dig him deeper in pity.

Sam nods along, taking in the other's sorrows and waits for the tension to gradually dissipate as they drank in companionable silence.

Only a quarter of Willis's glass still remain and Sam wonders if he should get more beer. Looking up at the celling, the other lets out another sigh, a sound that always becomes more frequent around these holidays. But this time it sounded less like his soul was trying to escape and was in all honesty, rather subdued. With his eyes closed, Willis let himself sink into the sofa. You wouldn't call it happy but he certainly seems, content. For the time being at least.

Sam admires Willis for a while. The perfect image of a man who wouldn't flinch at sudden movements. Willis quickly finishes the remaining alcohol in one go. Then at last, the illusion is broken as he got up and puts his jacket back on.

"Look, I know Valentine's Day is supposed to be for couples only, but I want you to have this anyway." He puts the bouquet in Sam's hands.

Sam dumbfounded by the sudden closeness, barely manages to utter something.

"What?"

"Keep it, smell it, wear it. I don't care."

As Willis opens the door, Sam finally gets up and takes big strides across the room over to the door, holding onto the roses. Then when Sam realized that Willis was driving, he wanted to call after him. But immediately held his tongue, instead regards the flowers left behind and deliberates, before yelling "Danke shön!" down the stairwell. Hoping that his voice was loud enough to be heard by the man already exiting the building.

**Author's Note:**

> Once in a while, I write things to procrastinate from writing other things.


End file.
